Free The Sinister Mr. Corpse by Jeff Strand Page A

Brant
walked over to the recliner and without any sort of build-up jabbed
the needle into Stanley's upper arm.
    "Ow!"
    "This room is soundproof. You're welcome to
scream."
    Everything went dark.
    Not dark as if somebody had turned out the
light or whacked him over the head with a baseball bat. It was a
complete blackness. Though Stanley was sort of aware of his body,
he couldn't see it, and there was a "going down the first hill of a
really tall rollercoaster" sensation in what he thought was his
stomach. The whole experience was not unlike rapidly sinking in an
ocean of oil. Or rising. He couldn't quite tell.
    His head might've come off, but he wasn't
sure about that, either.
    Still, it wasn't that bad. Not exactly
relaxing, but not exactly repeating the third grade.
    Then he could see, sort of.
    Just himself, floating/falling in the
blackness. Not a very good view of himself, but better than the
all-encompassing darkness.
    A piece of skin on his right arm tore off,
curling up as if it were a sardine can lid. It was
uncomfortable.
    A slightly larger piece of skin on his left
arm did the same thing. Way-too-red blood began to jettison from
the wound, even though Stanley distinctly remembered being told
that he didn't have any blood.
    Strips of flesh began to peel off each of his
legs. More strips came off his arms. The flesh on his chest joined
in, exposing rotting, misshapen organs.
    Stanley decided to scream.
    Then he felt something bite him. It was a set
of teeth, attached to nobody. The teeth bit their way up his leg.
More teeth joined them, forming a little trail of choppers biting
through the skin of his leg. He could feel them on his back.
    Something was burrowing its way into what
remained of his arms. The pain was worse than giving rectal birth
to a school of hungry piranha.
    Did this mean that when he died he'd gone to
hell?
    The burrowing creature squirmed up into his
brain. He could see it in the back of his eyes. It was red and
slimy and had lots of pincers.
    Stanley screamed some more.
    And then woke up in the recliner.
    He continued screaming as he flailed around
to get away from the teeth and burrowing creatures that were no
longer hurting him.
    "Stanley...?"
    Stanley realized that his skin was all
intact, but he couldn't stop screaming.
    "Stanley, it's okay now."
    Stanley saw Brant standing over him. He
tightly gripped the armrests of the recliner and forced himself to
take a slow, deep, non-oxygen-delivering breath. It seemed to work.
After a few more moments, he was more or less calmed down.
    "Did you enjoy that?" asked Brant.
    Stanley elected not to tell Brant to go fuck
himself. "What was that?"
    "A lesson."
    "But what was it? Is that how it
was like when I was dead?"
    "You tell me."
    "If I remembered, I wouldn't
be asking," said Stanley. He wanted to add the word "asshole" to
prove that his spirit wasn't broken, but if Brant had the power to
make him go through that again, then perhaps Stanley's
spirit was broken.
    "Fair enough. But I'm not here to reveal the
secrets of life and death to you, Stanley. How would you like an
eternity-long replay of what you just experienced?"
    "I wouldn't."
    "Good. Then my discipline was successful."
Brant smiled. "It may have been excessive, but I want to make sure
you realize just how important it is for you to behave. I'm not
asking you to behave like a robot. I'm asking you to behave in a
manner that doesn't inspire me to want to place a shotgun in my
mouth. Do you understand?"
    "Yeah, I understand."
    "Good." Brant's smile
disappeared. "Because believe me, Stanley, if I have to destroy
you, I will. I'll shoot that fucking dart right between your
fucking eyes. You will respect me. You will obey me. And you'll watch your fucking
language when I'm in the room. Do you completely
understand?"
    "Yeah."
    "Say it."
    "I completely understand."
    The smile returned. "Then it should be smooth
sailing from now on. You're not to discuss anything that has
transpired. You'll tell